Five ends of House, MD
by Claire.CZ
Summary: Five stories - more like scenes - how House, M.D. could have ended. From the happiest one to the most tragic end.


**Disclaimer:** I don't owe the show House, MD and the characters.

**Note:** I wrote this little story after the end of season seven but haven't found the courage to publish it. I'm doing it now but didn't change the content - so in my universe Wilson doesn't have cancer, Foreman isn't the Dean, the Dean is a new and very uninteresting person that is a few times refered to.

The end-scenarios are very short so all five ends are ordered one after another in only one chapter - they progress from the happiest one to the most tragic end.

**1.** It's evening, it's darkening and he's sitting alone in his apartment. She's gone. The last he saw her was in her living room when he was giving her the comb.

He's not a man who would stare at the photo of a lost love and cry. No. Instead he's playing the piano. It's an incredibly sad song. The doorbell is ringing but he's still playing. The melody is slightly happier now.

He couldn't forget the clatter of her high heels. She's back. Cuddy is back. She goes to him and says: "I love you. I wish I didn't but I can't help it."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**2.** House is at home. He doesn't bother with opening the door. Wilson knows where the key is. He always visits him. Even when they're fighting, when they're not speaking with each other, he is there.

Wilson is standing in the door. This flat is like a second home to him. Beer, TV and House are always here. House, his only friend. Wilson's happy that he can visit him, cook for him, and work with him. House wonders what takes Wilson so long.

Suddenly Wilson decides and resolutely goes in. "House," he says. House turns around and wants to answer but he can't. Wilson is kissing him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**3.** He's alone. Sure, he has his job, maybe Wilson ... and nothing else. He misses the old times. And at the same time he wants to forget because those days were quite good ones.

He's drinking because he wants to forget. And nobody can talk him out of it. The only person he wanted to change for is not here anymore. And Wilson is always busy at work...

He's drinking a lot. From an orange bottle he takes two small white friends. He has in head what Wilson once said: "You can't go on like this. Something has to change." Many things have changed. But mostly for worse. And he's still going on like this. How far can he go?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**4.** He's alone. It's autumn and behind the window there are lying heavy grey clouds. Perhaps they decided to do the scenery for this gloomy show.

There's a white envelope waiting for him on the table. It's really bright and lying so lonely, it lures to be open but he hasn't done it yet.

Why should he do it? He's a great doctor, the best; he knows what's in the envelope. Why spoil the day? Thirteen didn't want to know the results of the tests either and it lasted a year before she decided to find out whether she had her mother's disease.

But he's not like her! He isn't a scared patient. He's a scientist and wants to prove his hypothesis. It doesn't matter that this hypothesis concerns him. Vitally.

Resolutely he goes to the table; there's still lying the white envelope. He has a folded sheet of paper in his hand. He forces himself to open it. At other times he would certainly look at the lines of words and numbers with interest. The words and numbers are medical records and lab tests. But those tests are his own and their only result is clear.

He doesn't need to waste long Latin terms. All efforts will result in two words anyway. End. Death.

How's he feeling? As a diagnostician he's pleased that his diagnosis is right. As a human ... Wilson would tell him. His first thought about Wilson is followed by another one. He won't tell him anything. Wilson mustn't find out. He'll spare himself comforting words and looks. On the other hand Wilson is a doctor. Sooner or later he'll notice. House strongly prefers the later.

And Cuddy? Probably there's no possibility that she soon, really soon comes back. So when he was standing with the comb in her living room it was the last he saw her.

Sentimental thoughts are then replaced by little cynical ones. What will the Dean do without his most unpopular but best doctor? Will the Department of diagnostics still work? If so, Foreman will be the chief, that's sure. And House has suddenly decided that he must speak to Foreman. Give him a few pieces of advice so that the department will survive.

House remembers his own words. "The great thing about telling someone they're dying is that it tends to focus their priorities. You find out what matters to them." So medicine is important for him. "That's not a bad finding," decides House. Suddenly it occurs to him that maybe there's some hope. He starts reading a pile of medical journals.

...

...

...

After a long while he pulls out the drawer and looks at the tickets for a Monster Truck show. This show should take place in five months. He bought the tickets so early to be sure that he'll get as close as possible.

Now the expensive tickets are being torn apart and slowly falling to the ground.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**5.** Is it really worth? Is life worth living? He was searching for the answer with a glass filled with golden liquid.

He can see familiar faces spinning around his head. Stacy, Amber, Kutner, Cameron, Cuddy. What has he got? Stacy was the first whom he lost. Because of her he lost confidence in people. After Amber's death he could have lost Wilson either. Then Kutner committed suicide. He temporarily lost his mind and Amber's ghost and fear of Amber's ghost have never stopped hunting him.

The original team he had fell apart. It's hard for him to admit but diagnostics without them is just a job. He misses the pleasure, the joy of finding answers, putting the pieces of puzzle together.

This patient, they could have saved him but the Dean refused the test. The patient died. Foreman pressed his lips more tightly and looked at him accusingly. "Like I was the one responsible for it. I diagnosed the disease correctly; the Dean didn't approve the test... Yes, I'm responsible for it. If Cuddy was there the patient would live."

He was crazy and jealous and lost Cuddy as well. It brought him to prison and he lost freedom.

He's got nothing left.

He forgets! He's got the small white friends in an orange bottle. Often they let him down and he's left alone only with his pain. The only thing he can't lose.

Maybe he's one of the best doctors in the world but he can't help himself. He's even not sure if he's done more good than worse in his life.

Who knows what they will say at his funeral. What will be written in newspapers? That's one of the very few questions House will never get an answer for.

The glass is empty, the bottle is empty, and he has found the answer. Is this life worth living?

That evening the neighbors heard one muffled shot.

Tomorrow's newspaper headline says: _Famous diagnostician found dead in his appartement. _


End file.
